


when i am dead, my dearest

by shyberius



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Connor has a bucket list to complete before he dies, Evan Hansen - Freeform, Inspired by Paper Towns by John Green, Kissing, Lovebites, M/M, SINCERELY ME, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This Is Sad, Treebros, You Have Been Warned, connor Murphy - Freeform, dear evan hansen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: The night before Connor dies, he sets off on a mission. He has scores to settle, revenge to take, things he needs to tick off his bucket list before he's gone forever. He's determined, in his own wayward way, that the world will remember him.Only, he needs a sidekick. An unlikely sidekick, who won't open his mouth to tell anyone or betray him.In other words, he needs Evan Hansen.





	1. when i am dead, my dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There will be references to suicide throughout this story.

Evan contemplated many things.

These things were usually hypothetical situations, such as, _What if I panic when I talk to them, then my throat closes up and I stop breathing?_ Let's try another one: _What if, when I'm driving to school, another car hits me, and I die and my mom won't have a car to get to my funeral?_

Purely theoretical things. Things which his mind made up and which were perfectly ridiculous.

And the thing was that none of these things had actually happened (which his therapist told him repeatedly), and if something _did_ happen, surely it wouldn't be that bad (which his mom told him repeatedly).

Evan's mind had spent pretty much every waking hour devising worst case scenarios, so that there was surely nothing that happened to him that he hadn't imagined in vivid detail beforehand.

Expect for Connor Murphy breaking into his house at midnight.

Evan would have been lying to say he'd been asleep, but it had been close enough. He'd been lying stationary in bed trying to keep his breathing regular, which was usually the closest to sleep he got.

The general readership would all agree that, the moment a hooded figure appeared at his window, Evan was certainly not asleep.

He leaped out of bed immediately, his heart hammering. He wasn't hallucinating: a tall, spider-like figure was poised outside his window, staring straight at him. The figure gestured frantically for Evan to let him in.

Evan wouldn't have opened the window had his bedroom not been on the second floor. He'd much rather the figure would have come in and murdered him than the figure fell to their death, whoever they were.

He undid the latch, holding his breath.

Connor Murphy shoved the window open and collapsed on Evan's bedroom floor in a long-legged, black heap. "The fuck took you so long? Falling from Evan Hansen's house is _not_ the way I want to go." He stood up and dusted off his jacket, scowling at nothing, trying to regain some dignity.

Words didn't come. It was like a broken faucet.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what I'm doing here?" Asked Connor.

"What - what are you doing here?" Murmured Evan automatically.

"Well," Connor answered dramatically, having clearly waited for this exact question, "I have a list. Of things to do, and I need to do them all tonight. But I can't do all these things without someone's help."

Connor had hoped to get at least another question, but Evan remained speechless. Maybe he'd be a more useless sidekick than he thought.

He carried on his speech impatiently. "I guess you'd call it a bucket list. Like, imagine you had one night to live, what would you do? You'd want to settle scores. Leave your mark. Write your messages. That's what I have to do."

Evan asked the question Connor had never expected. "You have...you have one night to live?"

Connor's face was still in the dark, his features drawn by long shadows. If voices could take on physical form, his would have been black and shrouded in cobwebs. "If you want to put it that way."

A silence elapsed in which Evan walked over and closed the window to salvage the little warmth there was. Then he returned to his original position, which was standing across from Connor as if they were rivals of some kind. His voice was small. "Oh."

Connor didn't have time for sympathetic silences. He tugged the straps of his bag tighter, squaring his shoulders. "So are you going to help me or not?"

Evan hugged his arms round himself, even though it wasn't that cold anymore. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you have a choice," said Connor, spreading his hands out liberally. "What kind of monster would I be if I _forced_ you to accompany me on this joyride?"

Evan assumed this was a rhetorical question and turned on the bedside lamp, flooding the room in weak, flickering light. Despite the best intentions, this had the effect of making the pits under Connor's eyes more eerie than they had been before.

"I'm not asking much from you," reasoned Connor, pacing the room animatedly as if he couldn't stand another moment wasted. "All you'll have to do is ride shotgun and tell me the directions. And we'll be back before the sun comes up, so no one will ever know you were with me."

Evan looked anywhere but at Connor. "Why me?" He whispered.

The lamplight made Connor's eyes flash amber for a second. "Because you're the only one I can trust to keep tonight a secret."

Evan looked down at what he was wearing: loose-fitting tracksuit pants, a Greenpeace T-shirt and mismatching socks. He was hardly in the right outfit for a ride-or-die. "Shall I...shall I change?"

Connor beamed, reminding Evan distinctly of the Cheshire Cat, gleaming white and fuzzy round the edges. "You're perfect. But shoes might help."

As Evan pulled on his sneakers, he asked, "are you high?"

"Bold of you to assume I'm ever _not_ high," Connor mused. "Now, are we leaving through the window?"

Evan nodded shakily. "We'll have to, otherwise my...my mom'll hear." He took a step forward to follow Connor, but faltered in the last second. The next things he said all came out in the same breath without stopping or slowing down. "I need to bring my medicine in case I need it also some water and a snack and possibly a coat in case I get cold and we're in the middle of nowhere and it'll be cold and -"

"Evan." Connor held out a hand as if he could stop his words with force. Somehow Evan fell silent, exhaling sharply. "Do you trust me?"

Evan didn't hesitate with this answer. "No."

"Well..." Connor fumbled for something to say that would calm Evan down. "I don't trust me either. So we're both in the same situation, aren't we?" He was already leaning on the window frame with his hand on the latch.

"One more thing," said Evan, his feet stuck in a forward stance like some indecisive action figure. "Will any of this be...illegal?"

Connor had already swung one leg out of the window and was turned to Evan, his whole body beckoning him to follow. If his face betrayed any emotion, it was hidden behind a curtain of dark, straggly hair. "Legal, illegal, it doesn't matter anymore. It all feels the same in the dark."

Evan wondered why he was doing this. Perhaps it was because, despite everything, no one had reached out to him before. If this is what you called 'reaching out' (according to his therapist, reaching out meant talking about your feelings. Maybe Connor's version of reaching out was practically kidnapping you in the night).

Or perhaps it was because, more than anything, he wanted to be invisible too. He wanted the darkness to swallow him up, to take him to a place where nothing he said or did mattered.

Evan followed Connor to the window and stepped outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks so much for reading the beginning of this fic. It's been strongly inspired by Paper Towns by John Green, but at the same time it's totally different. I hope you enjoy it, and stay tuned for more soon! Take care :)


	2. sing no sad song for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There are multiple references to suicide in this chapter.

Connor hadn't been joking when he'd said he had a bucket list. There it was, a yellowing slip of paper crushed between his fist and the steering wheel as he backed out of Evan's driveway, hitting the curb by accident. Evan winced.

"I hope your mom's a heavy sleeper," muttered Connor, swinging out of the drive and starting down the road at a breakneck pace.

Evan was riding shotgun, and he had a bad feeling about this. Literally. He felt like he was one lurch away from puking all over the inside of the windscreen. "Could you...could you maybe go a bit slower..."

Connor turned as if he'd only just noticed Evan was there. "Time waits for no man, Evan." He turned his gaze back to road, his expression hardening. "At least, time doesn't wait for me."

Evan didn't have time to decode what that meant before Connor punched the on button of the car radio. The stale car air filled with the high-pitched, shivering vibrations of a violin. _The lark ascending_. "You like...classical music?"

"Over my dead body." Connor chuckled with the irony of it all. "It's my mom's shitty music," he explained. Then he took out a cable from nowhere and flung it into Evan's lap. "Connects your phone to the car. You can play whatever you want."

Evan dutifully connected his phone to the car, scrolling through his Spotify for something. What was the soundtrack to a possibly illegal midnight joyride? And, more importantly, how would the likes of Evan and Connor ever agree on music tastes?

Maybe Evan was overthinking it.

His finger hovered over the shuffle button. Choosing a song felt like a step in the dark, not knowing where your foot would land.

After another thirty seconds of the lark ascending, Connor sighed impatiently and grabbed Evan's phone off him. Evan made a small noise of protest.

"I can't stand another second of this," huffed Connor, scrolling through Evan's playlist with one hand while driving with the other.

Evan's hands resumed their usual position in his lap, wrung together and clammy with nervous sweat. "Are you sure it's safe to..."

Connor scoffed, taking the car on a sudden swerve to the left which indicated that it was anything but safe. "Multitasking is my speciality." He grimaced at the screen. "I can't believe you listen to this wishy washy shit."

"It's calming," replied Evan defensively.

"There's no Green Day," Connor quipped back.

"Green Day sounds like my anxiety turned up to a hundred," Evan admitted, his hands still in perpetual motion.

A passing streetlight briefly illuminated Connor's smirk. "Fair enough."

They'd reached their first destination without managing to change the music. _The lark ascending_ sputtered into silence as Connor yanked the key out of the ignition and jumped out of the car without so much as a backward glance at Evan.

Evan got out slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his surroundings. They'd driven for a few miles at least, and he'd been so distracted by the music that he hadn't observed where they were going. Now he was stranded in an unknown neighbourhood that looked pretty much like every other neighbourhood within a twenty mile radius.

"Okay," Connor was standing under the only working streetlight. He looked even more ghostlike than usual, his fine cheekbones jutting out of his face like knives, his skin glowing with something not altogether normal. "This is where you come in. Which one of these houses," he gestured to the rows of identical houses stretching up the street into blackness, "belongs to the Kleinmans?"

Evan froze. Did he mean Jared? How did Connor even know that they were family friends? Jared had always taken pains to make sure no one knew they were associated with each other. "I - I don't under-"

"This is their street, isn't it?" Connor's voice grated against the silence of the night.

Evan cast another look at his surroundings, searching for the familiar street sign. And there it was, nestled amongst a shrub: Putnam Close. "Y-yeah..."

"So which one's Kleinman's?" Connor wielded his messenger bag like a weapon. For once, Evan wondered exactly what was in that bag.

"What - what are you going to do to him?" Evan stammered, taking a step back. He nearly tripped on the curve, but managed to regain his balance. His knees were shaking.

Connor's smile was wicked. "Oh, like _you_ care? He treats you like shit, Evan. This could be your revenge as much as mine."

Evan's instincts were torn between fight or flight. But fight meant getting on the wrong side of the alleged school psychopath. And flight meant stealing the car, which also meant getting on the wrong side of said psychopath. It was futile.

But he still couldn't say anything.

Connor could see Evan's distress; how couldn't he have? It was scrawled all over his face. Connor's expression softened a little. "I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. But if you wait here, I'll do what I have to do and I'll be out in ten minutes. But," his eyes gleamed, "you have to be prepared to get in the car and drive like hell straight after I come out. Okay?"

Evan nodded mutely.

Connor smiled with relief. "Okay. If it all goes to shit, I'll make bird calls or something."

"It's thirty one. That's...that's his house." Evan whispered.

Connor swung his shoulder bag up under his arm and set off down the street, giving Evan a mock-salute as he went. "Don't hyperventilate while I'm gone!"

As soon as Connor was out of his line of sight, Evan sunk down onto the curb next to the car, fighting back tears. He lost; the tears came streaming down his face, hot and angry. Not only was he complicit in almost definitely illegal activity, but it was against Jared. Then Jared's parents would find out, who would tell his mom, who would never talk to him again because he was a total disgrace.

What's more, Connor had taken Evan's damn phone with him. Evan sat in silence, trying with every ounce of concentration not to imagine what Connor was doing right now only a few houses away. The word _revenge_ echoed back and forth in his head like a faulty tape.

Connor was true to his word: ten minutes later he emerged from the direction of Jared's house, his grin wider and his messenger bag significantly lighter than before. "No one's woken up yet," he said under his breath as Evan stood up off the curb to face him. "But I'm not wasting any time before someone does. Let's drive."

Connor hopped into the car and had the engine running in two seconds flat, leaving Evan to scramble into the seat beside him with no time to lose. He'd barely closed the passenger door before Connor accelerated forward with worrying speed and set off down the street. "Where - where are we going now?" Evan asked, afraid to know the answer. He hoped Connor would say that it was all over now and they were going home.

He didn't. "You've got to direct me for this one. I heard you go there all the time."

Evan frowned, sifting through his mind the places it could be. The park? Therapy? The orchard?

As they drove on in silence, the suburban landscape began to give way to more deserted roads, houses and streetlights being replaced by fields and trees on either side. Evan inhaled sharply at the familiarity he couldn't quite place: winding country roads? Trees?

"Are we...are we going to the orchard?" Evan breathed.

"Bingo. Only I don't know the exact turning, but I figured you would."

Evan's breath tasted sour in his mouth. Why would the orchard be a stop on Connor Murphy's Illegal Midnight Joyride? None of the answers could be good. "Wh-what are you going to -"

"It doesn't involve arson."

Evan hadn't actually considered that this would be the case, but he was relieved all the same.

Suddenly the road looked more familiar - Evan remembered taking this route too many times, sometimes in tears, sometimes feeling nothing at all. He just never thought he'd come here like is. "This is it. This is the turning."

Connor yanked the steering wheel to the right at the last second, throwing Evan across the seat and onto his lap. The car stuttered to a halt, and Evan was still lying there, his head on Connor's legs. Connor looked down at him, his expression unreadable. "Are you going to get up?"

Evan snapped his head up, feeling a blush creeping up his face. "S-sorry. You just turned really suddenly and -"

Whatever else Evan was saying was drowned out by Connor's sharp burst of laughter. " _Evan_. It's fine."

But Evan's cheeks still burned with embarrassment as they got out of the car and walked into the orchard.

Somehow it was different in the dark: more eerie, more like the trees were disjointed fingers breaking out of the earth and claiming the wild as their own. There was no trace of the leafy, welcoming haven it was in the daylight.

Connor, silhouetted against the gnarled trunks of the apple trees, almost looked like one of them. He scanned the area, clearly looking for something, then pulled something small and cylindrical out of his bag. While he'd looked all business at Jared's house, now his eyes were far away, untouchable.

"What - what are you going to do?" Asked Evan, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment.

Connor still didn't look his way - his eyes remained fixed on nothing. "Number two on my bucket list. I have to leave a message for her."

Somehow Evan knew who he meant without having to ask. He looked at Connor, and could tell he was thinking of her too: wavy brown hair, dimpled smile, stars on the cuffs of her jeans. She came to the orchard when she was sad, because it brought back good childhood memories. The pictures of the trees were all over her Instagram.

He had to leave a message for Zoe.

When the orchard had been built, it had been surrounded by a brick wall. By now, most of it had crumbled down from lack of care, but there was still a small portion of it standing, haphazard and overgrown with lichen. As Connor approached this wall with the object in his hand, Evan realised that he was holding a spraycan. It all made sense now.

Connor began to write his message.

As Connor sprayed the wall with his back to him, Evan remembered the words Connor had said to him earlier in the night. _Imagine you had one night to live, what would you do? You'd want to settle scores. Leave your mark. Write your messages._

But he couldn't mean it. Not like that. _Never_ like -

"Finished!" Connor rounded off his last letter with an uncharacteristically theatrical flourish. Evan hadn't meant to read it, but the message was there, almost glowing in the dark:

 _When I am dead, my dearest,_  
_Sing no sad song for me;_  
_Plant thou no roses at my head_  
_Nor shady cypress tree._

Evan's voice was barely a whisper. "What does it mean?"

Connor sounded proud of himself, content with what he was doing. "It's from some poem. Some shitty romantic Victorian poem." He turned to Evan, his eyes gleaming. "But now, it's my note."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate any comment, even if it's just short.
> 
> For those interested, the poem is an excerpt from 'Song' by Christina Rossetti.


	3. plant thou no roses at my head

They were on the road again, but instead of heading back the way they'd came, they just went further into the countryside. Evan wondered if Connor was going to take him out to a remote spot and murder him for knowing too much. Then no one would find his body, and his face would be on those posters you sometimes see of missing people. And his mom would never know where he'd -

"Aren't you going to ask where we're going?" Asked Connor, his voice cutting into the silence.

Actually, Evan hadn't thought to ask. He hadn't thought to say anything, actually, because after what Connor had said in the orchard there hadn't been anything to say. Evan was afraid to speak because he was afraid of two things:

1\. The truth, and

2\. The feeling that something inevitable was going to happen, something that, no matter how hard you try, you can never, ever stop from happening.

And Evan felt that he couldn't talk to Connor without addressing either 1 or 2.

Connor answered his own question. "We're going to Six Flags. Why?" He answered his own question a second time. "Because it's the last thing on my bucket list. To ride in a roller coaster when no one else's in it."

At the beginning of the night, when Connor had broken into his room, Evan would have been surprised at this statement. But now, in light of the past few breakneck hours, there was nothing on Connor's bucket list that could faze him. As long as he wasn't involved. "But surely...surely you don't need my help to find Six Flags."

Connor scoffed, his eyes fixed on the single track lit up by the headlights. "Well, I can't just drive you all the way back. It would be morning by then."

But that wasn't it. That wasn't the truth at all. And if Evan had been a bit braver, a bit louder, he would have said:

_You don't want to be alone, do you?_

But Evan didn't say a word, and even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have had time, because somehow they had already arrived at Six Flags. Evan remembered the run down, faded sign from some hidden corner of his mind. It conjured up images of sticky popsicles, a small hand holding a bigger hand, and the feeling you get when you're falling and your stomach gets left behind.

Connor had jumped out of the car and was already on Evan's side, yanking open the car door for him like a gentleman. (That is, if gentlemen wore black from head to toe and looked like angels of death.) He tilted his head at Evan as if deep in thought. "Are you going to get out, or what?"

Evan snapped his head up, shaking out the thoughts of the truck and the empty driveway. "R-right, yeah. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for kidnapping you and taking you to Six Flags, but you're welcome." Connor dropped a lazy wink as he strode past the theme park sign. "Bet you've never been on a date like _this_ , Evan Hansen."

Evan has to practically jog to catch up with him. It wasn't as if he'd been on what constituted a date in his life, or that this was one. Which it clearly wasn't.

They crossed the booth area where you'd usually queue to buy a ticket. A theme park at night felt like a place where reality didn't matter - the rides were just empty, looming skeletons, and the ice cream stands had been evacuated hours ago. There were no traces of life, no children or parents or even animals. It was like a dream you'd forgotten years ago but had come back to haunt you.

Connor seemed to know exactly where he was going, even in the near pitch black. He'd turned the flashlight of his phone on and was holding it out in front of him, lighting up his footsteps. Suddenly he stopped, turning to Evan. "This is the one."

"What...?" Then Evan looked up. "You want to go on...on that? But what if you fall, and there's no one to help you and -"

Connor waved a hand dismissively, his gaze fixed on the roller coaster in front of them. "Evan, we both know that me falling is not what I'm worried about. Hell, I don't have to worry about _anything_ anymore."

Evan hated what this meant.

Connor took bounding strides up to the nearest roller coaster car, climbing into it with graceful ease. He threw a glance back at Evan. "You're the one who's going to make it work. There's a lever." He nodded his head towards a small hut a few feet away.

Evan was frozen to the spot.

"C'mon, they don't run on magic," retorted Connor. "It's easy, anyway. You just pull the lever, then off I go."

When Evan thought back to that night (which he did, way too much), he could have sworn that his limbs had had some mind of their own. Because it certainly wasn't Evan Hansen who walked up to that roller coaster booth and pushed open the door. It wasn't Evan Hansen who pulled the lever, waited for a few seconds, and listened for the scrape of the wheels on the track. No: it was some other version of Evan, some alternate double that made him do things he didn't want to do.

Evan closed his eyes tight. He'd pulled the lever, but no sound came. Then an infernal hiss sounded from the roller coaster car, and an unseen hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled. "Quick, or it'll go without us!" were Connor's disembodied words as Evan was somehow dumped into the car next to him, scraping his arm on the side of the door.

And just like that, they were moving. Their car was rolling slowly in the dark towards a mystery destination.

Suddenly Evan's mind caught up with his body in a headlong rush and he realised that he was on a roller coaster in the dark, with no one to hear him scream apart from Connor Murphy, the kid who could throw a printer seven feet across a room and whose sanity was questionable at best.

And they were _trespassing_. On _public property._

The thing was that Evan didn't even have time to Not Breathe, because they were hurtling through the air at the speed of light (ironic, considering it was pitch dark) and it was over in what felt like a second. As they flew round the invisible roller coaster the only sound in Evan's ears was a vacuum of air.

And just like that, they stopped. Evan didn't realise he'd been holding his breath for so long, but suddenly he needed to breath, and he let it out in one long exhale. He could just make out Connor's figure beside him, his hair standing out wild round his shoulders and an equally wild glint in his eyes.

Something was very wrong.

Evan wasn't sure how he knew that something was wrong, only the wind was still slapping his face and the tops of the trees were still swaying on either side of the track. Conclusion: they'd stopped, only in the wrong place.

Conclusion: he was stuck on the top of a roller coaster with Connor Murphy.

Suddenly he became hyper-aware of everything. Connor stirring beside him, the dangerous teeter of the rails, the cut of the frayed safety belt into his legs. The sound of panic rising inside him, the roar of blood rushing to his head.

" _Damn_ ," but the way Connor said it was as if he were almost happy, as if he thrived off certain death. "This wasn't in the plan. Then again," he turned his whole body to face Evan, "neither were you."

Evan was a deer caught in headlights: wide-eyed, certain he was going to die right then and there. "What...what do you mean?"

Connor's whole face was a silvery white, but his lips were a dark pink. Like a thin gash across his face. Why was Evan noticing the details at a time like this? "I mean that I never thought I'd actually end up _liking_ you. This complicates things."

The car rattled slightly as Connor leaned nearer to Evan: something Evan was all too aware of but Connor was not. Then Connor was suddenly closer, closer than he'd ever been before, and Evan could feel his warm breath on his chin and the tickle of his hair on his cheeks.

When Connor kissed him on the top of that roller coaster, it was gentle and sweet and everything that Connor was not. It was as if Connor were afraid to corrupt Evan; as if, if he kissed him too hard, he'd project some of his brokenness onto him.

When Connor pulled away, his cheeks were flushed. He'd never, thought Evan in a daze, blushed before. Maybe it was a trick of the dark.

_It all feels the same in the dark._

Before either of them could say anything, the roller coaster car jerked violently, and they were moving again. In five seconds, they were back where they'd started, at the beginning of the track, breathless and guilty of about ten federal crimes (most of which included trespassing and robbery).

"My bucket list," breathed Connor, his grin glow-in-the-dark, "is complete."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I hope the wait was worth it, though. If you're enjoying this, please leave a comment and stay tuned for the last chapter! :)


	4. nor shady cypress tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: References to suicide.

What a night. That night would burn on the back of Evan's eyelids forever, like when you stare at the sun for too long and the lights stay in your vision. Except the sun, even in its mighty power, would eventually burn out and die. But this night wouldn't.

The first thing Evan saw as he woke up was the white wall peppered with peeling band posters: Blink-182, Mayday Parade, Slipknot. At first his chest tightened - where was he? This wasn't his room. Then he exhaled slowly as he realised that this was Connor's room.

A small scrap of memory fluttered towards him like a leaf in the wind: him and Connor in the car, bickering about what music to play. Connor had scrolled through Evan's Spotify with obvious distaste. "Wishy washy shit," he'd muttered.

"But your bands sound like my anxiety turned up to a hundred," Evan had explained. "My music's actually calming."

Evan smiled secretly at the memory, eying the dark, moody band posters once more. That had been the first time he'd ever joked about his anxiety - the first time he'd seen it as something separate from himself.

He felt the shape of Connor behind him stir. The rustle of the covers gave him away, but Evan was nonetheless surprised to feel the cool touch of his lips on the nape of his neck.

He squirmed, pressing his chin into his chest. "That tickles, Connor."

He didn't hear Connor's laugh, but he felt it in warm bursts of breath against his skin. "Would you like it somewhere else?"

 _Oh_. His voice was rough, like asphalt. Though asphalt was by no means a sexy metaphor, alas, that was exactly how morning-Connor sounded.

Evan hesitated to answer, but when he did, it was shyly. "Here," he gestured to the side of his neck, still not turning round. Connor was still invisible, a phantom behind him, while Evan was left to stare at an emo-looking guitarist and anticipate when he'd get kissed next.

(Evan, not the emo guitarist.)

Connor fulfilled his wishes by planting bite-sized kisses on the side of Evan's neck, creating a clear silver trail from the sharp jut of his collarbone to the soft spot just beneath his jaw.

Evan shivered. "That feels nice."

"Nice?" Connor sounded almost offended. When he spoke, he kept his mouth pressed to Evan's neck to that his voice was muffled against his skin. "I appreciate the honesty, but no one remembers _nice_."

"Well, I meant -" Evan stammered. "It was more than nice. It was -" he gasped - Connor stole the words from him as he bit down on Evan's neck and sucked. Evan could feel everything, from the stinging sensation where Connor had been to the prickle of Connor's hair on his bare back.

"You'll remember this. I want you to remember this," whispered Connor, biting down again, making Evan temporarily forget his own name.

As Connor left another bite - a love-bite, Evan resolved to call it, if the fiery thing between them really was love - Evan let a small moan escape his mouth. He stopped himself at once - sounds like that were dirty. Was he - Evan Hansen, tree expert and chronically unable to speak to the pizza delivery guy - dirty?

He blamed Connor.

"Wait. Why'd you stop?" Asked Evan, turning over to face him.

Connor's smirk could have won some mind of Infuriating Smirk Competition. "I thought you...weren't enjoying yourself much," he was playing with him, picking his words out of thin air. "After all, you said it was just 'nice'."

"That was before you started doing...doing that _thing_!" Protested Evan, curling his lip like a child who had been denied a trip to the playground.

"You mean this?" Asked Connor innocently, bending his chin to bite down on Evan's soft skin again. Evan closed his eyes, letting out all his breath in one long, lovely exhale.

Then he turned again to face Connor, burying his face in his chest. Connor smelled of forget-me-nots. "What are we?" Evan whispered against Connor's t-shirt. "What did we do, and what...what are we now? What changes?" Because he was scared to ask. These things they'd done together last night: did they change things? Would Connor ignore him in the hallways, or would he say hi? Would they kiss again?

Evan couldn't hear Connor laugh, but he could feel it, vibrating through his body. It sent a chill through his neck and down his spine. "Nothing changes, Evan. Absolutely nothing."

Evan frowned. Something felt wrong all of a sudden. "What do you...mean?"

He reached out for Connor, who had been there a second ago. His body had been warm in the bed, warm against Evan's skin. _There_. But Evan reached out his arm, and Connor wasn't there anymore. Just air.

Evan opened his eyes again. The wall covered in band posters was gone, only to be replaced with the whitewashed wall of Evan's bedroom. Frail sunlight eked it's way through the curtains.

"W-what..." His heart was hammering. Connor had been there. Evan's grip on reality suddenly didn't feel so tight anymore.

It was morning. Evan's bed was empty, his room empty, save for himself. He scrambled out of the covers, sitting with two bare feet firmly on the carpet. He repeated the facts to himself: what had happened.

_Connor Murphy broke into my room. We went on a crazy midnight joyride together, which involved getting revenge on Jared and riding a roller coaster on our own. We kissed. I woke up beside him._

Even the truth sounded crazy.

Evan made his way shakily to the bathroom, turning on the flickering light and looking at himself in the mirror. He checked the signs that it had been real.

First there was the scrape on his arm he'd got from Six Flags - it was still red and angry. Evan touched it, and winced. Definitely real.

Then there were the marks on his neck, pink circles that stung when he touched them. Bites. Love-bites. Someone else had to have made them.

_You'll remember this. I want you to remember this._

Evan traipsed back into his room and stared at his sneakers, which stood in a neat row by his bed. He picked one up and turned it over, and sure enough, the sole was caked in mud. So he _had_ left the house last night. And he had grazed himself on the roller coaster, and been kissed by Connor. All of those things were physically tangible. They _hurt_ , and that meant that they were real.

In a desperate bid to knit his dreams and reality back together, Evan got dressed, left the house with a rushed goodbye to his mom, and drove to school, all without stopping to think of the bad things that could happen. It was as if his one goal - finding Connor - had overridden every reason to be nervous.

Evan walked through the corridors with his head down, glancing up to search for a familiar pale face. But Connor wasn't there.

It wasn't until his name got called on the speaker that Evan knew. It wasn't that something was wrong; it was that what was going to happen all along had happened.

The entire class swivelled round to look at Evan, as if they couldn't believe someone like him would get called to the headmaster's office. His face burning, Evan dragged his feet out from under his chair and left the classroom. Heart pounding. Hands shaking.

Evan wasn't as surprised to see them as he should have been. There, sitting in the headmaster's office, were Connor's parents. His father was stony-faced, and his mother's face was stained with tracks of tears.

The headmaster's face was kind, sympathetic. "Sit down, Evan." He gestured to an empty, forboding seat.

But Evan didn't need to sit down. He didn't need to hear it. Because he knew, and a terrifying part of him had known all along.

_Imagine you had one night to live, what would you do?_

Connor's bucket list hadn't just been a list. It had been his suicide note.

Connor had got revenge on Jared because he'd never get another chance to do it. He'd left that message for Zoe because that was the only way to explain to her. He'd gone to Six Flags to feel like a kid again for the last time.

But why had he chosen Evan to help him?

_You don't want to be alone, do you?_

Evan knew that it was too late. That he was gone. The worst part was not knowing what had been real and what he'd made up for himself.

Cynthia Murphy held out a shaking hand to Evan. In it was a carefully folded note. "He...he wanted you to have this." She whispered.

Evan took the note and opened it.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_When I am dead, my dearest..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this! It's my take on the events of DEH, and it's definitely my favourite DEH fic I've written so far.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please leave comment it you'd like!
> 
> ALSO
> 
> DEH IS COMING TO LONDON AND I'M SO EXCITED


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